But Not For Me
by RozzandMaya
Summary: They're writing songs of love, but not for Christine. It's a little stylized and the lack of depth is artistic. This is a weird one and a Christine basher, so be warned. It's also my oneman crusade for Madame GiryErik


Disclaimer : no I don't. I don't own a bit of it. I have researched it. Written a college thesis on it. Debunked it. Been to the play 3 times in two different countries. Singlehandedly raised the movie's opening week gross by a significant amount of money. But I don't own more than a copy of the libretto, music, and playbill.

However, I am on a crusade for Erik/Madame Giry and invite one and all to join. There is a musical coming about this...

This one, however is not a musical. It's bizzare, strange, and I don't know why I wrote it because it's pretty lousy. You were warned.

So without further ado...

* * *

Christine staggered back into the tall doors of the opera. Had it really been so long? The tall gilded doors were forbidding and cold. It had only been six months since she had seen and passed through these doors every day. She had come home. Wiser. It had not taken long for her to see the beautiful gentlemanly manner of Raoul was not nearly as exciting as the dangerous Erik. Married life with Raoul was just plain dull. She knew now that she had always loved Erik. Now she was coming home to him.

Coming home to her true love.

She was already imagining his pleasure at seeing her again.

The dark passages in the fifth cellar were too chilling for Christine's constitution. She coughed in the damp air. "Erik," she called out again. "I'm home Erik!" She recoiled as a rat skittered around somewhere in the darkness. Why had he chosen these horrid cellars of all places to make his home. She would have to make him move into an apartment somewhere in the city. She couldn't stand the dark. The cellars were for someone dead. Erik was so alive, she knew that now.

"Christine?" Erik's surprised voice stopped her in her tracks. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh Erik!" Christine rushed forward to hold the figure dimly lit by a lantern. "I've made such a terrible mistake, I love you Erik. We must never be separated or I would die!"

"Christine, Christine," Erik chuckled, "Whatever are you doing in the opera? It's good to see you again."

Christine looked up into his pristine white mask, "Why, I came back to you."

"Dear Christine," the good side of Erik's face smiled bitter-sweetly, "Won't you come to my house for tea and we can catch up on old times."

Christine followed Erik as he led her towards the lake.

* * *

"Erik," Christine protested as he placed a hot cup and saucer in her hand, "I've come home to be your wife." 

Erik laughed heartily, "Has it really been so long, Christine?" He sat down opposite her and crossed one leg over the other, "After you left, I married Madame Giry." He leaned back, "Oh, I didn't think so then, but leaving me was the best gift you ever gave me. I've learned a lot from you Christine."

"MEG!" Christine practically shouted.

"No, of course not," Erik smiled, "God forbid. I married _Madame_ Giry, Meg's mother."

"Doesn't she even have a name?" Christine shouted furiously "What you married a woman and you don't know her name."

"Temper, temper, Christine," Erik set his cup down delicately, "Of course she has a name, it's Mame. We are very happy."

The door burst open at this moment and Little Meg dashed in, trailing a pair of ballet slippers over her shoulder. "I'm home Dad." She gave Erik a quick kiss on the forehead before disappearing through a door.

Erik twisted in his chair, "Is you mother back yet?" There was no answer from Meg. Erik sat back down and shrugged to Christine, "Teenagers."

"But she's so old," Christine shuddered, "And fat."

Erik grinned and twirled his teacup around on one finger. "You'd be surprised. Besides, I have my own faults too."

"I will win you back, Erik," Christine said determinedly, setting her little hands into fists. "Any way I can."

"There's no need for that Christine," Erik said softly.

Christine burst into tears and ran out.

* * *

Christine wrapped her arms around herself in the chilly dank air on the pier outside of Erik's front door. She had been so sure of herself. Now the world had collapsed upon her. Madame _Giry_ she repeated to herself with incredulity. _Madame Giry_? What kind of a name was Mame? She had thought Erik truly loved her. 

"Oh, my," suddenly a matronly voice appeared next to her, "Christine! What a pleasant surprise!"

Meg turned to see Madame Giry. She was her old self, looking like a centaur under a massive black skirt and a huge bosom. Her cheeks were apple-red and she was out of breath. She was nearing fifty, and her teeth were sparse. Nevertheless she smiled warmly at Christine with every single rotting tooth.

"You…" Christine said hoarsely. "You stole my life…"

Madame Giry smoothed back her sparse brown hair, "If I recall dear, you had your chance. Now come inside, does Erik know you're here? He will be so happy to see you."

Christine pulled a small pistol out of her skirts and pointed it with a shaking hand at Madame Giry. "I have learned a lot in my time in the world, I am not the innocent girl you knew."

Mame Giry's warm complexion chilled ever so slightly. "Daae, you are messing in things beyond your comprehension. Erik is not the man you knew so long ago. He is dead."

"He's sitting in there alive," Christine shook her head, "Don't you dare tell me that he's dead."

"Well perhaps, you could say, he's joined a club." Mame Giry sat down next to Christine, ignoring the jiggling revolver. "He's always been a child of the night."

Christine started to shake, something about Madame Giry wasn't right, something sinister was creeping into the edges of her vision. "What do you mean?" she demanded.

"First you must stop thinking of me as Madame Giry, your stage mother." The woman said, "Call me Mame instead."

"You have stolen Erik's love from me!"

"What have you ever done to earn his love!" Mame broke in, snarling, "I was always his friend, you betrayed him. I carried his letters, I gave him his salary, I made sure he always had keys." The face seemed to be wavering between the plump Madame Giry and something much more sinister, "What did you ever do for him?"

"I sang!" Christine protested, "I gave him my music, my voice!"

"Do you think you are the only woman who can sing?"

"You can't sing like I can," Christine once again pushed the muzzle of the pistol under Mame's chin.

Mame Giry chuckled, "Go ahead, fire it, see what it will do."

"Tremble for your life you homebreaker!" Christine fumed.

"Don't bother, dear, you can only kill me by staking me through the heart, cutting off my head, burning my body and scattering my ashes to the four winds." The plump vision of Madame Giry vanished, the only thing that remained was a slight shadowy catlike figure of a woman. "Even then, you can't be sure."

Christine dropped the pistol.

"We vampires have psychic skills that you wouldn't dream of my dear." Mame said, smiling enough so that Christine could see her glistening fangs. "You see, Christine, when you left, Erik was desperate. He did love you, once. We had always been good friends. His face cut him off from all of humanity. I was a vampire. We found that we could have a fulfilling life together, as long as Erik lives. I would not curse him doubly." The light caught silken white curves of Mame's neck and her cherry-wood colored hair. "We, completed each other. I needed intelligence and music. He needed beauty and love." A pair of emerald green eyes looked at Christine coolly, "You could never love him. You couldn't even see past his face."

Christine burst in to stifled sobs. "No, no, no," she cried, "I can't live with this horror."

"You have to admit, he qualified as a vampire long before I came." Mame smiled, "He never left the safety of darkness to go out in the day. He hates mirrors. He sleeps in a coffin." Mame chuckled, "He's not even fond of garlic. Says it hurts the vocal chords."

Christine's fingers searched the cobblestones for the pistol. "I don't believe it. I could have saved him. He loves me still."

"Poor Christine," Mame said, "Are you sure you don't want to come inside. I'm sure Erik would explain it much better than I have."

Christine found the revolver and her hand shook as she lifted it off the pavement.

"You see, Christine," Mame leaned away from the light and lost herself in shadows once more, "I didn't always love Erik, but somewhere I realized that I would never leave him as long as he lived. I believe that's as close to true love that you humans ever come to."

Christine raised the revolver to her head.

Mame's hand flashed out and seized it. She tossed it into the lake and it landed with a little splash. "Besides, my Meg needed a normal father."

"_Normal_ _father_!" Christine spat.

"I did not want her to grow up knowing she was the child of two vampires." Mame's voice was expressionless, "That's no life for anyone."

Christine stood up, "I will never give in. I will have Erik back."

"Here, here, what's this nonsense," Erik appeared behind Mame, "Christine, you're still here?" Erik crouched down and clasped Mame's shoulders and whispered something in her ear. He wasn't wearing his mask.

Christine saw them, the deformed genius and the seductive vampire. She saw the faint light from the house play over them, always keeping their faces in shadow. And she could not understand.


End file.
